


Random, the sequel.

by ARMEN15



Category: Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-08-26 15:19:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16684096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARMEN15/pseuds/ARMEN15
Summary: After the events of random, James Stevens discovers things about Miss Kenton and himself.





	1. Chapter 1

Friday evening don’t go as I planned.  
I hoped to spend some time with Miss Kenton in her parlour and with discretion learn more about her meeting.  
It's important for the house, the staff welfare and - I have to admit it - for my personal welfare, too.  
My concerns increased since I saw her distressed and dripping rain, pushing her broken bicycle.  
She briefly told me later of her meeting with a former colleague, that didn’t go well as imagined, and I restrained to ask the very name. I prefer she tells me the identity without me asking.  
Unfortunately on Friday morning William has to leave the hall in a hurry after his father's sudden worsening and George is still recovering from a cold, so all the duties with the guests of his lordship are on me.  
I'm able to stay for two minutes only with Miss Kenton before staff dinner, that I have to skip this evening. She's mending a dress beside her fireplace, looking up when I enter.  
“I'm afraid we cannot have our night cup, I don't know for how long I will be busy.”  
It's is not the first time, but I feel compelled to advise her in advance.  
“Mr Stevens, it is not a problem, I have still various mending to complete, it will take time.”  
She's telling me she'll stay awake, waiting for me.  
It's comforting the way she values my company.  
“If you says so, I’ll knock when I’m off duty. If you re still working we could talk, if not I wish you a good night.”  
When I leave I heard a muffled cough and realise her voice is not steady as usual, like something is stuck in her throat she cannot send away.  
In the library the gentlemen are chatting and I'm assisting them, not listening as always their dialogues – decorum dictates me – this time because another dialogue is playing in my head.  
I’m trying to find the words, change approach, prepare a speak.  
It seems so difficult, my command over English language lost.  
Should I write the words?  
It lacks spontaneity and I think in this case a little of it is needed.  
I don't want to spend another evening as the previous one. The idea of Miss Kenton away from here or in danger is not acceptable for me.  
I care about her.  
This realization dawn on me and the plug of the bottle rattles against the crystal neck.  
Nobody notices it except me, the voices are loud and cover the sound I’ve made.  
Last round of brandy and Lord Darlington tells me I'm free, I decide to keep my formal jacket on and to go briefly to see Miss Kenton before returning in the corridor outside the library, should lord Darlington forget the staff problems and call for William.  
I knock lightly at her door and it is a little ajar, so I push it open.  
She's on her couch near the dying fireplace, her legs covered by a plaid, eyes closed and probably asleep.  
I call her name, she stirs and her hand go to her mouth to cover a cough. She is not well, her face is red and her eyes are fevering.  
“Miss Kenton, you need to retire for the night, I think you have a cold.”  
She nods, she tells me her throats is sore and she sipped a hot tea with honey to ease the pain, the cup is on her desk.  
She waited for me and this simple gesture warms my heart in a new way.  
She laments her walk during the rain was the worst choice of the year, I completely agree, adding whoever wanted to meet her could have thought better to make her leave the house in the rainiest month of the year.  
“Mr. Stevens, I wish I never answered positive to Mr Benn request of a meeting.”  
Mr. Benn.  
I conceal my feelings, my face shows only concern for her.  
“Just to tell me he's leaving service for the coast and insisting with me to visit him. Like I had holidays to spend at the sea.”  
She met Benn, her former colleague, Benn, who visited here and talked with me and I told him I'd be lost without miss Kenton  
The only man who heard those words from my lips.  
There was something in his eyes after, I thought it was a wrong impression from me but no, he was mulling my words and he kept on doing so.  
I don’t want to speak about Benn now, I want miss Kenton to have a good sleep and I must find a way to help her.  
It's late, she' has an early start and she is not well.  
I offer her to prepare a warm bottle from the kitchen and a lemonade for the throat, my mother used to make me drink it when I was a little boy. She agrees, I promise to fix the red ashes of her fire before going to bed, now we need to go to the kitchen.  
Her lemonade is ready long before the bottle so I insist she goes to her bedroom to drink it and I'll follow with the bottle once I've wrapped it in a towel.  
She leaves, her breathing is getting worse and my feelings regarding Benn are making me strange.  
I half walk, half run to the library, the door is open, the lights are off and I control briefly and close the door. The house is silent, now I'm really free for the day.  
I'm outside her bedroom with the bottle in a chest, she opens and I see she'd already wearing a nightgown and a woollen long cardigan, a scarf draped over her neck.  
Not a novelty to see her dressed for the night, the first time when a guest had a stroke and we had to call doctor Evans and then the ambulance and all the house was up. Then a year ago Mr. Cardinal arrived long after midnight and Miss Kenton had to prepare a room swiftly; I assisted her, having understood Mr Cardinal was involved in very important matters regarding national security so better keep his presence the most private possible.  
That time I was dressed for the night, too, and it seemed some how strange, to see two people preparing a bed, dressed to go to bed, with no intention to use it.

I move the chest toward Miss Kenton, warning her about the excessive warm.  
She thanks me and smiles, the smile she uses when I do something she approves from the heart.  
I’m rooting on the spot on her door, knowing I have to leave and not wanting to do so .  
She coughs again and I have an idea, tell her to wait for me for a minute, while I go to my bedroom and from the nightstand retrieve a box of candies Mr Cardinal gave me, made in Ireland, when we went to London with his lordship and I had a sudden loss of voice due to the windows open on the train.  
I offer her the herbal candies and while she took the small metal box from my hand our fingers are in a brief contact, I'm sure she notices it like I do.


	2. Chapter 2

SHORT UPDATE

CH 2 

On Saturday night His Lordship hosts a formal dinner to celebrate the foundation of the Hall, back to the XVIII century. Among the guests, the major, the vicar, doctor Evans, Mrs. Anderson the school principal and a few other notable people of Darlington with their spouses.  
Miss Kenton has spent with her staff the morning and also part of the afternoon, until her fever rises again. When she knocks at my door her face is red and her eyes are full of bright flames. Asking my forgiveness, she cannot stand up any longer.   
It means all the responsibilities of the evening are on me only, with a reduced staff, William away, George filled with hot tea and chicken soup to make him recover faster.  
Cook and the maids are nervous when Miss Kenton is not around, especially Cook, who has a nervous breakdown around five, when a large pan with roost falls to the floor.   
I'm called in the kitchen and the hysterical scene I witness tests my composure to the limits.   
My words are unheard, Cook repeats only she wants to speak with miss Kenton, Juliet - the kitchen maids I suspect caused the fall of the pan - is crying like a fountain.   
The gardener clean the floor as fast as he can, the dogs will be very happy with their dinner,   
I raise the volume of my words, getting attention only when I stand in front of Cook and with the iciest stare I can manage explain her miss Kenton is really unwell, the dinner will be reorganized and I expect the kitchen to be silent again in a quarter of an hour.   
I leave, feeling exhausted. If this is what the evening has in store for me, I'll have to use all my experience to cope with the staff.   
Holding a tray with a bowl of soup, I ask miss Kenton admission knocking at her bedroom door .  
I enter and leave the door wide open - propriety is important when a man is in a lady private chamber – but the setting is so proper to verge on ridiculousness.   
The form lying on the bed is clad in multi layered covers, a knitted hat over her head, her nose and upper lips covered in what seems a very greasy cream, making miss Kenton appear like an old woman.   
Her voice is unrecognizable. I offer her the bowl and realize she cannot keep it and eat at the same time.   
Her frame is torn by a series of coughs. Impossible to make her sit on the edge of the bed. I draw a long breath, put the tray on the desk and standing beside the bed spoon feed her, a napkin on her neck and one on the sheets.   
She's too unwell to protest and I'm too concerned to think about what I’m doing, especially the fact I could have delegate a maid to deliver the tray.   
I inform her of the kitchen incident and she praises my behaviour.  
That's what I hoped to receive, her approval, her support, Miss Kenton standing by my side like she uses to do.   
I'm ready to leave and she calls me back.  
“Mr Stevens, I' m deeply grateful for your concern.”  
“It is nothing, I wanted to see you, I'm worried for your health, it's a serious cold you have. I’ll ask doctor Evans to come and see you when he arrives.”  
“There’s no need.”  
“Please Miss Kenton, it will be a brief visit, but I prefer to hear his opinion.”  
“Yes, sure.”   
She looks at me in a strange way while I retreat and close the door. Doctor Evans will sure suggest rest, hot teas and similar remedies, it’s only a bad cold, I know it.  
Too concentrated on her, I don't look around, so after an exhausting evening, when I retire around 2 o clock, it's the scent of her room that lulls me to sleep


	3. Chapter 3

CH 3 

Miss Kenton is back at work on Wednesday, although she sits mainly in her parlour during working hours until Friday; I spend a couple of hours a day there, to discuss with her about staff problems and daily routine.  
Benn's name appears again only on Monday evening, with a letter miss Kenton want to share with me.   
I must say there is a huge curiosity in me to know the content, I tell myself it's only concern for the staff welfare, for her welfare as the housekeeper.   
“I've read it again and again. I still cant believe he proposed to me!”  
Her voice is strained, my worries increase.  
She hands me the letter – a privilege I never had before, a letter is such a personal things - and I read it with a hint of pride for her trust and increasing trembling hands. My legs are trembling, too, thank God I'm sat on my usual armchair.   
Proposed? Does it mean a work offer? He has a project,a boarding house, sure it cannot be anything else, but Miss Kenton is distressed. And suddenly the written words become a cold shower for me: not work, it's a marriage proposal.   
I lift my head and meet her eyes.   
I must appear strange, because her eyes gets huge and her face is worried.   
“Mr. Stevens, are you well?”   
“Yes, yes. Why do you say so?”   
My voice wants to be steady as usual, I hide my changed heartbeat.  
“It seems you're distressed by something.”  
Her tone is serious, her eyes are smiling a little.   
I gulp twice, I need a glass of water, not thick cocoa, but I cannot leave her now. I need a way to introduce the question that scares me. A proposal is a serious matter, one that implies feelings and commitment and desire to build a family.  
“So he is asking for an answer?”  
She nods, but don't reply immediately. Is her attitude positive toward Benn? Have I read wrong the subtle signals that pass between us? I have no legal rights to stop her, I'm not a relative or in a position to influence her choice, but I want her to do the right one.  
“I imagined proposals should come in a different way, not with a single meeting and a letter. I'm not an expert in relationships, but it seems obvious.”  
“One of the under butlers I worked with when I was a footman did a similar courtship to the girl he eventually married, but it was more than twenty years ago and people were different, marriages were less based on love and more on duty.”   
“Mr Stevens, I'm not a silly young maid looking for romance in a hurry to leave service, but I think love is a very important part of a marriage.”   
“I'm sure, miss Kenton, you'll never marry a man for whom you don't have deep feelings. And a married housekeeper is not a rarity in houses like ours.”  
We're theoretically discussing about marriage and respectability and feelings and I have no clues about her own feelings regarding Benn. The only encouraging thing is that the more she talks, the less she mull about him. Or is she going to delay the moment she'll tell me she has choose him?   
“I imagined you'd refused such an hypothesis, remember when you told me your vision about relationships between staff members?”   
This is a real blow, well delivered, I remember my words, and I now wish I never spoke them so abrubtly.  
For many years and through many housekeepers I've kept my life neat and tidy, until Miss Kenton arrived to challenge me and slowly conquer my deep respect.  
“It was mostly referred to the young, unable to resist to passion and romantic love.”  
“So you're implying for old spinster like me the rule don't apply?  
“Miss Kenton, you aren't an old spinster.”  
“But I'm indeed a spinster.”  
“You're the housekeeper of Darlington Hall.”  
“I must say, Mr. Stevens, that in my life I imagined I'd find a man worth to marry and have a family, thinking it would be compatible with my work. It seems that Mr. Benn is the only man who values me as a woman. The problem is my position here.”   
She is looking at me in a way I feel a strange heat spread all over me.  
My mother used to tell me when an object was not desired, it could remain unsold on the shelf for ages, then suddenly someone wants it and it becomes the most requested of the whole shop. Can it be applied to people? Was so for Benn? When he heard me speaking about Miss Kenton, he realised her value, only because I valued her?   
Can she decide to accept Benn's offer because she thinks he is her only chance?  
The stakes are high and our time is short, a combination I never liked, but I have to face it.  
She wants to keep her position, a place like Darlington Hall is very different from a boarding house on the sea, but the sea offers a man and here spinsterhood is looming at the horizon.  
I need time, I need time to understand myself and I need time to keep her here.  
I have to dare a little more.  
“Miss Kenton, I understand the internal debate you're facing, I assure you that you're more than respected and admired here at Darlington Hall.”  
“Thanks.”  
Her reply is not helping me a lot . She is very interested in my right hand that is forcing a finger inside the collar of my shirt. Why am I still wearing the formal dress and not the cardigan I often use when we are talking in front of the fire? It will be easier to sit together without uniforms and pretend we're a couple who is discussing the events of the day before retiring for the night.  
A couple.   
Yes, from an external observer we may appear so.  
There is a sense of informality in the way we sit and talk and drink our cups and discuss work related things and sometimes personal matters.  
I close my eyes, remembering the night she arrived home all wet and the cold she suffered, and how glad I was to have her back and to help her getting better; it gives me a little strength.   
“As I told you, I think your position here in case you marry will remain untouched. I know it is easier to see married butlers or under butlers than maids, but my father himself was a married man.”  
“I remember well Mr. Stevens senior, and his ability as a butler was never questioned.”  
“So you see..” It is the moment of truth, the more I can offer for now. “I could well follow my father’s steps.”   
She bows her head a little, my words have a deep effect on her  
“You ...could?”  
I bow my head a little.   
“But you never...”  
I know, I never dared to imagine to see myself with a woman until a few evenings ago, when her delay made me understood the importance she has in my life.  
From importance to commitment, the step is too long? I have to learn to read myself and her, to see if the work relationship we have can shift to a more personal level.  
I'm asking some time and some trust.  
“I'll never formulate a proposal in Benn's style”   
It is my final comment about that man, I cannot offer more for now, it is up to Miss Kenton to decide if for her it is enough.  
She looks at the fire and then back at me, I feel her gaze on my features, trying to see what I am thinking.  
In the end she takes the letter and tosses it into the fire.  
“Tomorrow I'll write Mr. Benn I'm not going to accept his proposal.”


	4. Chapter 4

CH 4

I lie awake for a long time, hands intertwined under my head, to support my thoughts: I have to plan a courtship and I'm confused. The practical details are a thorn in my side, no previous experience, nothing to compare to, no one to talk with.   
First of all, we are the highest in the chain of command, we cannot loose our position and the respect of our staff.   
We are living with other servants, our gestures are scrutinised in every detail, there’s no possibility to have more privacy than the evenings in her parlour.  
There is also the problem of having different free days, the idea to switch them totally unpractical, it is for the best of the hall to have the butler or the housekeeper always present, except when I have to follow his lordship when he leaves for visits.  
It would be easier to forget all the courting business, return to my neat and quiet life, but I'm not that kind of man. I’ve taken a decision and I’ll follow the route.   
Miss Kenton is important for me and I must acknowledge the depth of this feeling.  
Her face lingers in my mind while I try to sleep, and in the morning I often wake up with a tangible - and a little shameful - proof of the dreams I've had about her.   
The idea how to start eventually come easily, a day I'm in Oxford with his lordship to visit his tailor for a new mackintosh after the dogs chewed a whole sleeve; when Lord Darlington goes to meet his old university dean, I leave the car in the driveway of the old townhouse and I'm free until six.  
Walking along the main streets, I notice the bookstores. They are so many it is impossible not to stop and look at the windows. A book is a valuable gift, not too intimate; friends exchange books, I saw Mr Cardinal offering his good father various volumes about the history of England during the years.   
I enter into a store and think about my choice.  
She 's partial to novels, I imagine, she knows I read them, too.  
Historical books for a woman still young are inappropriate and I prefer something personal.  
Poems? Love poems? Too... straightforward?   
Shakespeare? A classic, maybe too boring.   
The sonnets are romantic, the entire work a heavy volume that doesn't show well my feelings about Miss Kenton.   
A clerk approaches me, asking if I need help, a young woman in her twenties, dark short hair and a pair of glasses, wearing a cardigan with a college symbol over her heart; she sure works part time here while attending university. I’m used to see female clerks in our small shops of Darlington, never a woman in the middle of books. Darlington Hall can be an important place but it seems it keeps me isolated from the real world, that is changing at a fast rate. And my trip to London are slowly reducing during the years, I miss the exposure of the big city, maybe Miss Kenton would like to see it one day.   
The clerk stares at me and I need to answer to her offer.   
“I'd like to purchase a gift for a colleague, the housekeeper of the estate.”   
She nods.   
“A leisure reading or something else?”  
“A novel, but not too sentimental.”  
“A classic work? Maybe a 1800 novel? A woman’s work?”   
I agree, a book written by a woman is the perfect choice for miss Kenton. She's unconventional in her everyday attitude and giving her words written by another lady is a sign of respect. I leave the store with an Austen selection in a heavy bag. .

 

The books are a perfect start.   
Miss Kenton is surprised by the gift, I can say she is deeply moved.   
I use the novels as a suggestion to read them during her free days of the incoming cold months, when walks in the garden are often forbidden by rain and cold or cut shorter by the winter light.  
“I can read them too, when your re finished.”   
She welcomes my offer, suggesting she'll leave them on her small table, when she'll finish them, one by one.  
Fall becomes winter and Benn is never discussed again.   
Except in my head: the festive season is approaching and I fear another attempt at contacting miss Kenton, with a Christmas card or another meeting.  
Our external professional behaviour is unchanged, during our evening meetings I try little by little to change the atmosphere, until a particular event helps me a lot in evaluate my feelings.  
Cook knocks at my office on a Friday afternoon, miss Kenton is with me controlling the bills.  
It is one of our typical weekly task, well known by everybody, so I suspect Cook has chosen this moment by purpose.   
I welcome her and offer to sit, but my space around the desk is already crowded with miss Kenton chair.  
Miss Kenton saves the situation, as always, moving her chair on the shorter side of the desk, offering Cook the chair I keep against the wall.   
Cook sits and twists her apron before speaking, I fear she can tear the tissue.   
“Mr Stevens, you already know my daughter Rose is getting married in two weeks. She'd like to ask you a great favour. She's outside, hoping you'll admit her.”   
Rose, I’ve seen her grow from a little girl to a gracious woman, Cook arrived at the hall with Rose and young John, still a toddler, after her husband died in a mining accident in Wales.   
Rose is engaged to our butcher's son, her manners have always been very polite, a pleasure to be with a young woman composed like her; she enters the room and greets both me and Miss Kenton, who moves to the armchair to leave her place free.  
This continuous moving of Miss Kenton is making me a little dizzy, I want to know where she is, she is my solid presence, but I have to concentrate on the women in front of me.  
“Mr. Stevens, I’ll be honoured if you'd enter the church with me on my wedding day. My father..” Rose bows her head for a moment, “And John is still 16, the vicar said he should be of legal age, so I thought to ask you. It's just a short walk, but for me it means a lot.”   
I'm stupefied, lost for words. My experience avoids me to let my jaw fell, such the request is a surprise.  
And a real honour at the same time.  
The whole staff would attend the ceremony and Lord Darlington has already decided to offer a little refreshment in the dining room of the left wing, the one unused for a long time.  
I turn to Miss Kenton in an automatic gesture; I want her help, her support and her opinion regarding such a singular request.   
She nods a little, the way she always do with me, her face express complete agreement with Rose's request.   
My fears disappear and I'm submerged by mother and daughter’s thanks.


	5. Chapter 5

CH 5

The wedding plans take place without problems, Miss Kenton briefly tells me she and the maids are setting the offered dining room for the guests during their free hours, as a gift to the bride.   
Miss Kenton is also doing some needlework on what seems a table cloth and napkins when we meet for our night cap; she's helping with the bride’s outfit.   
So I find myself on a Saturday morning in revered Miller's office, waiting for the bride.   
The reverend is friendly as usual, despite his old age he's still a man able to tell a good joke and enjoy a liberating laugh. He looks at me for a long time, a little smile playing on his face.  
“Mr Stevens, never a father and now the father of the bride role. You're still in time to get married, you know.”   
“I m too old, reverend Miller.” I politely dismiss an idea that has played in my mind for a while.  
“Not at all, you won’t be the first man to marry after 40! I met Mrs. Miller at 42 and we had our three children before I turned 50.”  
These continuous references to marriage and family are getting me a little nervous, I have to admit.  
I smile, hoping the reverend would stop, when the bride and her mother save me.  
Ten minutes later I give the bride to the groom in front of the altar; I scan around to find my place to sit and cook briefly gestured to a vacant spot in the second row at Miss Kenton's left, a book of prayer ready for me on the bench.  
I pass over cook's sister, a matronly lady with a large blue hat and unfortunately for me a large body, too.  
The space is narrow, and I feel my upper arm and miss Kenton's in full contact.  
Never we were so close, but I accept the situation and she turns to me, a little stupefied, without retracting.  
I keep my mouth close during the hymns, while Miss Kenton is well versed in singing, I can capture her voice thanks to our closeness.   
The reverend’s speech is appropriate and short, but I feel his eyes on me twice and all his insistence about never being too late to find happiness seems too reminiscent of what we discussed earlier together.  
When we have to exchange the sign of peace, I decide to offer my hand to the others first, keeping Miss Kenton last, obviously not least.   
She sees me turning opposite her and does the same, I'm fast so I can wait she's done her round and I want her to notice me, so I touch lightly her elbow.  
Our hands met and I try to make our contact lasts longer than with the others, her gaze moves from our clasped hands to my face and she smiles.  
The organ introduction to the next part of the service forces us to separate our connection.   
Later, at the small reception, I retrieve from the cellar the bottles of champagne Lord Darlington offers to the couple.  
Counting the guests and excluding the young, I pour the precious nectar.  
William and George do the round while I join miss Kenton with two glasses for us. While I offer her the champagne our fingers touch again and this time I can smile, we're not in the church anymore.  
“Thanks, Mr Stevens”  
“My pleasure.”  
“It has been a lovely wedding.”  
“Indeed Miss Kenton, I wish them the best, they're young and deserve happiness.”  
“The groom isn’t so young, he's already 35.”   
How is she able to know such details remains a mistery for me, but I’m used now to her kind and smooth way of dealing with people.   
I look at the groom and yes, he appears young but at closer inspection there are wrinkles all around his eyes and mouth, his hands betray his age, too, worker's hand. He's lucky, I think to appear older, reverend Miller's words resound in my head.   
“Do you know how old I am, miss Kenton?”   
She turns to me. “A curious question, Mr Stevens.”   
“Yes, but please answer me.”  
I feel scrutinized, but it's her, so I m not worried, although to be observed so carefully is unusual for me.  
She is thinking, is it a difficult question? She should remember well I was with his Lordship at war.   
I'm a little ashamed for putting miss Kenton in a potentially embarrassing position, still the curiosity to know what she thinks about me is strong.  
“I'm probably wrong, I'd say 48.”  
“Quite close, 46.”   
She blushes a little.  
“I'm sorry for making you older.”   
“Not at all, I wanted your honest opinion. Must I consider myself too old or am I perceived as too old?”  
“You aren’t old, believe me, your position barely allows you to smile and it puts pressure on your body and your features.”  
“Your situation is similar, but you're young.”  
“Mr Stevens, you're teasing me! I’m sure you remember well my age from my work contract. I' m well into my thirties and my face...”  
We're interrupted by the toast to the happy couple, we raise our glasses and drink the expensive champagne.   
Cook wants me to meet her late husband relatives and the happy couple wants a photo with Miss Kenton, we're forced to part for the time being.


	6. Chapter 6

CH 6

The younger staff members walk fast up Chestnut Hill and their voices and laughs slowly fade away during the descent; it's frosty and I don’t want Miss Kenton to risk a fall, so I ask her to take my arm. She accepts and I'm sure a chill runs through her body, related or not to the temperature we are facing.   
“Are you cold?”  
The air isn't so icy, so maybe it is my proximity that affects her.   
When the second part of the play started, I decided a bold move, letting my fingers cover hers for a moment.  
She didn’t retract and I heard her taking a deep breath.   
The darkness of the small theatre of Darlington was keeping us private, I knew well the story of old Scrooge and to see it performed on stage I became aware of a certain symbolism with my own story, a man that was beginning to change. My mind still controls me, but the hand touch was interesting.  
We're reaching the top of the hill, from where we can see both the hall and the village; the trees are bare in December and the full moon offers us enough light.   
I stop and prompt Miss Kenton to turn around and admire the view.   
“It's beautiful, it was worth the walk.”  
“I'm glad you like it.”  
“I still wonder why you wanted the staff to attend the play.”   
“Lord Darlington approved.”   
“Yes, but you were too keen on it, you organized everything.”   
“It's Christmas time, they deserve an evening out. the situation in Europe is getting very dangerous, Mister Cardinal says. What if there is another war?”   
“No!” Her arm presses against mine, concern in her voice.   
“It can be, Miss Kenton, when I iron his lordship’s newspapers I can't help reading the headlines. I've already seen a war and I'm in the reserve with Lord Darlington.”  
“Bit his lordship won't go at war again.”  
“He could be called on duty in England. If he goes, I go with him. I hope Germany will stop its imperialistic attitude.”   
“You're right, the situation is difficult. Now I see why you want everybody to have a special Christmas.”  
She leans a little into me, her head for a moment leaning on my shoulder.,  
I hope she moves closer by herself, but this is the moment I’m waiting for. I shift a little so we are face to face and I move my head forward, looking at her; it's a big step for me, a part of me hopes she‘d back off, the other prays she stays in place.  
Her lips part a little, just a little, until they make contact with mine.  
In the dark and cold night she is summer and peaches and silk all mixed together.   
A brief kiss, a first kiss.   
I feel her hands on my forearms, gently moving up and down, by their own volition.   
Our gazes lock and we listen to the sound of the night for a what seems a long time, but   
I want another kiss, she has the same desire and we meet in the middle, letting our mouth press a little more, for a little longer. I'm not playing with her feelings or mines, I have to ask.   
“Miss Kenton, am I allowed to address you by your name?”  
She nods.   
“Yes, Mr Stevens. May I suppose the same is for me, when we're not working?”  
How well does she read me. Yes, it's better to keep work separate from our private lives.  
She tilts her head a little.  
“So are you courting me, James?”   
The sound of my name from her is sweet, it's the first time she calls me James.  
“Yes, if you allow me.”  
“This is serious, isn't it?”  
“Yes Sarah, this is not an impulse. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, since you got that cold.”   
She looks at me in the white light of the moon and I can read her thoughts.   
Benn, his proposal, the idea to leave service, to leave the Hall and ..to leave me.   
She remains silent, she knows me well, too, not to introduce that name in our delicate exchange.   
“I’m honoured to accept.”   
How a single little gesture changes everything.


	7. Chapter 7

CH 7

I knock at the housekeeper’s parlour much earlier than usual, skipping the private moments I allow myself every evening in my office after Lord Darlington dismiss me to go straight to Sarah. I’m reducing my time alone, discovering the beauty of having the desire to be with someone else. It’s the first time in my life apart when as a child I run to my mother after school everyday.  
I do feel the need to talk with her, she's a little surprised, the way she welcomes me, sat at her desk with a few Christmas card scattered around.  
But she is happy to see me, a smile light up her features; she points at the cards.   
“Still two to write. I was going to pass them to you tomorrow for the post office, I'm a bit late this year. You can help me sealing them so I can prepare cocoa sooner.”  
Every year she gives me a bunch of cards with the addresses written in her ordinate calligraphy.  
Former staff members, distant relatives, various acquaintances, a long list of people related to the hall or to her past I started to know by name.  
I take the envelopes, sit at my usual place near the fire and do as I am asked, posing the sealed cards in a neat pile on the small table.  
Reading the addresses, I notice three are still missing, not two as she declared.  
Her father's cousin, living in Scotland, her first housekeeper, long retired in a Cornish village and Tom Benn.  
“Two .. or three to write?” I ask in a quiet tone that wants to be neutral, but betrays a little curiosity she sure will recognize.   
She lifts her head from the desk and process my statement, is she surprised of my memory? Posing the pen, she questions me.  
“Do you remember to whom I write every year?” She read the answer in my face.  
It can't be an invasion of privacy, because she handed me the letters; I'm supposed to buy the stamps in relation to the distance of the receiver and she always refunds me.  
“And you know three are missed?”  
“Edinburgh, Padstow and an address now by the sea.”  
“I'm not going to write him.” A note of stubbornness in her voice.   
“You have his address.”  
“I doesn't seem logical now.”  
“We can only thank him for what he did. If he didn’t seek you out, I’d never understand lot of things about me.”  
It is easy and true, my fears are fading away, because Sarah is the same woman, the change, subtle, slow, is inside me.  
Sarah’s face changes, she offers me her warmest smile, then stands up and moves to sit by the arm of my chair.  
“James, if I had know that a hint of jealousy was enough to make you take a decision, I'd set my eyes on George a long time ago.”  
“George?” Is she serious, or she’s playing with me?   
“Why not? He's young and kind.”  
“Our goofy George? Sarah, I've been so troubled by this situation for a long time, my work and Lord Darlington's health. When Benn told you he was going to resign and move, I feared to loose you and I was worried for my position, too.”  
The state house are reducing, service in the past was different, winds of war raging too close. What if something happens? It is not only myself now, we're two in the picture.  
“Whatever happens,” she takes my hand and caress it with her fingers, a pleasant warmth spreads all over me. “we'll face it together.”  
My idea was to ask on Christmas’ eve, but I can't delay any longer the answer I need to know.   
“Sarah, will you marry me? Will you accept me as the man to share your life and your future with?”  
I saw the tears in her eyes before she said her yes.  
Not my intention to make her cry, I reply.  
“I'm happy, James, I’m deeply happy. This is the best Christmas gift I can have.”  
I've already planned my gift for her, an engagement ring.


	8. Chapter 8

CH 8

I wonder when to inform His Lordship and try to imagine his reaction.   
I’ve played in my mind the words and the possible outcomes, in a repetitive circle.   
From heartfelt congratulations to dismissal for both. Ecstasy and agony.  
Being engaged to be married makes us a couple, who shares whatever life has in store.   
His Lordship is not in one of his best periods, he’s often away in London, William, not me, drives the Daimler and they return in the same day; William spends long hours outside the club or other private houses, Sarah supplied William with a collection of books to pass the time.   
William asked me if Lord Darlington decided to live in London what our destiny would be. He’s got a wife and two kids to think of.  
Years ago I’d tell him it was not his work to dwell on such things, now I understand how he feels.  
A strange uncertainty lingers above all of us, it's not only the possibility of a war, it’s the connection with this place, trembling, fading away and we’re helpless to do something to prevent it.   
I decide to approach Lord Darlington on a Wednesday evening shortly after the festive season, when he calls me for his night cap. An inch of brandy, less than usual.   
“Stevens, add logs to the fire, I’d like to finish this book.” His voice is tired, I look at him and he’s thinner, he’s going to disappear soon.   
I tend to the fire, then I straight my back and take a blanket from the piano stool, placing it closer to the armchair, so that he could grab from his spot.   
“Milord, I ask your permission to use a minute of your time to inform you about a staff issue.”   
He lift his gaze from the pages, allowing me to continue.  
“Miss Kenton and me are going to marry in two months’ time. We haven’t set the date yet, we wanted to inform you about the news before.”   
He looks at me like I’m telling him something plain, a minor house problem, not my life changing decision.  
Can it be we’re not important for him so that we’re going to be dismissed? Fear to be replaced like a worn out pair of shoes, this scenario is not one I’ve imagined.  
I’m waiting to hear the reply.  
I’m ready, it will be difficult to find another place after twenty years but I’ve promised Sarah whatever happens we’ll be together.   
He’s smiling, a happy smile.  
He stood up and offers me his hand  
“Congratulations, Stevens, I was waiting for you to tell me the big news.”   
I shake a warm hand and he places his other over ours joined for a second.  
“You were… waiting?”   
“It was clear to me something happened. We know each other for a very long time, we were in war together. You changed, I saw it.”  
“I hope the quality of my work…”  
My profession is still a big part of my life, I can’t let my happiness interfere with my standards.  
“Nothing regarding work, your face and your body, you got a light. It‘s difficult to explain, but I knew you find the one.”  
I nod and being always there, it was obvious the one was here, too.  
“Thanks milord, also from Miss Kenton.”  
“Have you already thought about practical details, after you'll be married, like free days, where to stay and so on?”   
“We haven't, we wanted to inform you first and be sure there were no problems.”  
He looks at me straight in the eyes.   
“But you aren't leaving the hall, are you?”  
“No!”  
The tone don’t belong to my voice, but we're alone in the library, it's me. A single word to express my feelings and my fears.   
“Good. First thing, your accommodation. There's lot of space in the east wing for a family, we could go and see tomorrow.”   
How's he interested, he had forget the book on the table and the brandy in the glass.   
How alone lord Darlington is.   
I was like him, until a few weeks ago, this realization is like a wound in my chest. He lost his wife and unborn child and I was so lost all my life.  
There's a sudden fear. Me and Sarah haven’t talked about children , what if something would go wrong, like for Lady Darlington?  
How could I live now, without Sarah? It’s illogical, I know, everything can happen, winds of war are blowing and it's painful to think about what I witnessed at Ypres in 1917.  
Sarah is in her parlour when I join her, after Lord Darlington tells me I’m free.   
I prevent her questions with a smile; I like to smile with her.  
“All went well, his lordship congratulates and wants us to remain here,”  
“I'm glad, you were so worried to leave the hall.”   
I nod, she repeats often the importance of the time spent here with my master; this place is my home although I don't own it.  
She looks at me while I sit on the armchair, then places a hand over mine.  
“There’s something that bothers you, tell me,”  
A long breath, a delicate matter and I cant predict her reactions.  
“I remember Lady Darlington, she died with her stillborn child. Since then her husband never showed interest in another woman, the title will go to his cousin.”  
“I don’t thin you're worried about titles.”  
The worries of life in general scare me, illnesses and accidents and how easy is to loose someone you love.  
“This place seems safe, but Her Ladyship died here anyway.”  
“It was a disgrace, you can't go against fate.”  
“Woman can die of childbirth.” And I don’t add Lady Darlington was at the time younger than Sarah is.   
“It was twenty years ago, things have changed in many branch of medical science.”   
She reads my face.  
“James, we are not forced to have...you know..”  
“The decision is yours, Sarah, maybe just one?”  
Still I know she wants a family.


	9. Chapter 9

CH 9

 

My deep concern is how to be a good husband for Sarah in intimacy issues. It is not so common for a men being a virgin at my age, a man should be expert in the arts of love and a woman should be reluctant to give herself before marriage. I miss the logic, how can a man find a woman to have experience with, if women are not socially allowed to do so. Our problem is different, we're even in the sexual department.  
And I'm not going to build a fast experience in a house in Oxford where once I had to accompany the child of lord Darlington’s closest university friend. I still remember the women, velvets and smell of perfumes, I retreated fast and decided to stay outside the entrance door all the time.   
I had to do the bird and bees talk with Mr. Cardinal and I suspect it would be more useful the reversal. So doctor Evans is my only option; I ask to see him on my free day, as the last patient.   
My problem is extremely private, I trust the doctor but want to be sure no one would eavesdrop us, or see me here and make assumptions about an illness I have and report it to my staff. Sarah is unaware I'm here, I cant' tell her.  
The doctor tilt his head a little when I enter his practice, his professional gaze on me searching signs I'm unwell.   
He invites me to sit and I perched myself on the edge of the chair, take a deep breath and start my speech.   
“You'll see the publications in the church next week, Me and Miss Kenton are engaged to be married.”   
“Congratulations!”  
His large smile distracts me for a moment from my purpose. He continues.  
“It 's long overdue, I was sure you were meant for each other.”  
Such a warm appreciation of my engagement is unexpected, is Dr Evans really suggesting what me and Sarah shared was something other people could notice?   
I cannot dwell on this problem now, I need his help.  
“Thanks, doctor Evans. My request of a meeting is strictly related to our marriage.”  
He gestures me to go on.  
“As you know, neither of us married before, nor had serious commitments with other people. So we have few experiences … I dare say no experience at all about … intimacy.”  
There, I’ve said it, I can breathe again and I look at dr. Evans straight into his eyes, pleading him not to make me explain further.  
He gets up and takes two cigars from his box, offering me one. I'm so nervous I need double time then usual to light it up.  
He observes me, my sudden clumsiness, my cheeks slightly burning.  
“Are you at least aware of the theory?”   
“We both are.” Sarah's extensive reading habit is a blessing in our situation. “ I'm afraid to hurt Miss Kenton, to be inconsiderate of her needs.”  
“So it’s redundant if I lend you a medical book, isn’t it?”  
Dr Evans stares at his hand holding the cigar, takes a puff and turns to me.  
“Have you kissed? How she reacted?   
“She liked it, we both did.”   
This question is worse than the previous one; I wonder if I can bear another one.  
“So you can try a little more. Take a further step. But Stevens, when the moment will happen, you’ll know what to do. No need to worry too much, you love Miss Kenton, I’m sure, you’ll never hurt her.”   
Walking back to the Hall, I mulled over Evans words.   
Later me and Sarah are sat on her couch in front of the fire, after a long day; Sarah leans into my shoulder, too tired to use the needle to add her initials to the new bed linens.   
I absently massage her neck, feeling her tensed muscles, the skin is soft and she follows my hand, she wants to keep the contact. We’re in silence, only the cracking logs disturbs our peace.   
I run my thumb where neck meets shoulder, over and over, she imperceptibly shifts her body toward mine. My bold hand capture her chin, to make her turn and my mouth covers hers. This is the moment, I’m already lost in her sweetness.   
The need to taste more, pushing a little so her lips part and the kiss naturally deepens, her hand on my shoulder now, while I embrace her, running my own hands on her back.   
She moans a little, wanting me to continue, it’s natural, it’s simple, our grip increases until we have to part to breathe.  
She is smiling, I can’t see her mouth, lost in her eyes, but I feel the smile, she’s so close to me, she’s inside me. I’m no more alone, I got her.  
“Are you happy? Was I too insistent?”   
“No, not at all, James. I like this insistence a lot.”  
“So when we’re married I can add something more.”  
She looks into my eyes and capture my head between her palms for another long kiss.  
We’ll add a lot more, James.”

\---

The longest night, the shortest day of the year. I sit at my desk in my parlour, the clock signs half past eight.   
The house is quite deserted, His Lordship in London with Mr. Cardinal, they have a meeting with a lawyer. Mr. Cardinal comes here often, his wrinkles deeper, showing a deep concern for his godfather, letting me understand the accusations against Lord Darlington are true.   
I'm not required in London, his lordship is away just for a night, at the Cardinal's London home, there's only a room available and lord Darlington wants me to hold the hall, his only remaining fortress.  
I question myself about priorities for a while, how they shifted in the space of a year, a change slow but steady.  
The order modified, a new one entering, becoming the most important.   
At first on the top there was the hall, more than the owner. The prestige of the state house, the grandeur, as a French guest once said.   
Every time I looked at the building I felt a surge of pride for its magnificence. Few state house were - are - comparable with Darlington Hall.  
I know every room, every view, every stairs and every garden tree, I was committed to this place for more than twenty years,   
Lord Darlington come second, I know I should think first about my master, but it was the house I fell in love with, I became a part of it, disappearing into the rooms and the stairs and the windows.   
How fool of me, to value things more than people.   
Now I now the real difference.  
Lord Darlington needs me, in a new way. He's getting older too fast, he's more fragile, more tired every passing day.   
His weakness is our shared secret now, I do everything to help him, to cover his changes, not as a servant of a master, but as a human being that cares for another one.  
And I'm able to do so because of her. The woman who is now my dearest priority, my housekeeper, my love, my wife. 

THANKS FOR READING


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